


Can't Get No

by one_flying_ace



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: M/M, This Was Meant to Be a PWP, alien sex rocks make them do it, but it grew a bloody plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-01
Updated: 2019-04-01
Packaged: 2019-12-30 15:57:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18318530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/one_flying_ace/pseuds/one_flying_ace
Summary: “They’re on round two already,” he says, tilting his head towards the truck again, “or maybe three.” Guerin grimaces, and that’s fair; it’s his brother, after all. “You know how they’re feeling. Could I handle it, if you stopped-” being in control, he doesn’t say, but Guerin shudders.“I’m good, Alex. Just keep the hell away.”(Or: alien sex rocks don't make them do it, but they sure do help.)





	Can't Get No

A report of supposed illegal drug use that has only a tenuous and hypothetical link to anything Alex is working on is probably a waste of time, but it’s a change from everything else that’s going on, and he’s convinced himself it’s relevant enough that Alex thinks he can get away with gatecrashing.

He reads the (hacked, obviously) official report in the parking lot and then heads inside. Only Liz seems surprised to see him when he walks in; Max just rolls his eyes, while Guerin- he barely looks at Alex, apart from a once-over that makes the back of his neck prickle. Now Alex is starting to wish he’d stayed away when he saw Guerin heading into the sheriff's office, because there’s alien technology, and then there’s- whatever the hell this is.

Max flips shuts the file he’s holding, looking awkward.

“The clinic called me, concerned about the possibility of it being illegal drugs. Mostly because he, ah. Turned up with-” He breaks off with a cough, and Liz rolls her eyes.

“He had an erection,” she says, clinical and matter-of-fact. “That lasted for five hours. They had to sedate him in the end, his blood pressure was through the roof and the nurses were worried about an aneurysm.”

“From a hard on,” Guerin says, incredulous. Alex has to agree.

“For _five hours_ ,” Max repeats. “He tried to- you know, but it didn’t help.”

Guerin raises his eyebrows, clearly torn between disbelieving and impressed. “Damn. Poor guy.”

“He had this in his pocket.” Liz lifts a box stood on the table at her side and flips it open. Inside lies a rock, smooth save for a single jagged crack; inside it something glitters. “Kept muttering about it until we dosed him up.”

“What kind of muttering,” Alex asks. The official report says nothing about the deceased saying anything after he arrived at the lab. Max’s glance says he’d anticipated Alex knowing that.

“Sex rocks,” Liz says succinctly, and Guerin grins.

“Sure does.”

“Guerin.” Alex can’t help it, snaps out the name before he can stop himself. Guerin meets his eyes for the first time, smiling wickedly. Alex coughs and glances down, all too aware of the other two people in the room. “Not the appropriate time.”

“Shall I save it for later?”

“There’s not- Liz, did García say anything about where he found this?”

She shakes her head. Max taps his file on the table. “García owns a place in town, but he’s got a lease on an old cabin further out into the desert too. Cameron found nothing at his home, so next step is to check the cabin.”

No one objects to Alex going, not that he leaves room for it, and he’s careful not to end up in the truck with Guerin. He doesn’t need to make trouble where there’s none brewing.

^^^^

It’s a short ride to the cabin, off the main road and at the end of its own long track. Max and Alex lead, in case of trouble, but the place is deserted. Inside are several rooms and they explore each, moving carefully.

There’s a small kitchen, bare save for a kettle and some dusty old food wrappers, and another door that opens onto a bedroom, washroom visible through a connecting door. The bedroom is empty save for a cot with a bare mattress, blanket folded at one end. It doesn’t look like anyone’s lived there for a while, the only signs of recent habitation in the large main room.

There the floor has been swept recently and there’s rocks littered all over the rough wooden boards, along with some basic geology equipment. Alex nudges a small hammer with the toe of his boot.

“Looks like he was prospecting,” Max says, kneeling down. “Brought it back to check what he’d found.”

“And found more than he expected,” Liz agrees, stooping to inspect a cluster.

By one wall are a couple of big battered metal ammo boxes, clearly meant for transporting the rocks. One is open and empty, likely the source of the ones spread over the floor. The other, when Guerin bends to test it, is locked.

“We should take some back with us,” Max says with a frown. “Run some tests, if we can.” He reaches out before Alex can object, picks up a large rock with his bare hands.

“Don’t,” Alex says sharply, too late, and Max looks up guiltily, puts it carefully back on the floor. Liz, on the other side of the room, does the same, straightening up slowly, and Alex suddenly has a very, very bad feeling about this. Behind him, Guerin swears softly.

Alex ducks his head, because he knows where this is going, and if he can avoid seeing it in the flesh, he will. If things escalate he can handle Liz, although it might take both him and Guerin to get Max under control. Not that he wants to get in the way of things; there’s an intense conversation going on that he’s trying very hard not to overhear, given where Liz’s hands seem to be.

“We should get them back to town,” Guerin says, although he doesn’t look too keen to get any closer to the pair than he already is either.

“I don’t think that’d be a good idea.”

Guerin folds his arms, half turns to face Alex instead. “And why is that? You heard what happened to García.”

“He was alone,” Alex says, emphasising the word. “They’re clearly not. And anyway, they’re already-” He gestures, looking for words to describe what’s going on there, and coming up with nothing that doesn’t sound all too familiar. Guerin seems to get it, posture easing up.

“True. Plus,” he adds, glancing back to where Max and Liz are now rapidly trying to get each other naked. “They’re adults; I’m sure they can manage a decent morning after conversation.”

Yeah, that stings. Not undeservedly, but still.

The pair stumble out of sight into the empty bedroom, door mercifully slamming behind them. It doesn’t block all of the sound, but it blocks most, and all of the visuals. Alex turns away in time to see Guerin kneel down by some more of the rocks, and sighs in exasperation.

“Guerin,” Alex says warningly. He reaches out and grabs the collar of Guerin’s jacket, pulling slightly until he looks round. “Don’t.”

Guerin holds his hands up to the sides, palms open. “I love it when you get bossy,” he says, and Alex lets go with a snort. Guerin almost over balances but catches himself, stumbling forward and standing up with a grunt.

“Thanks,” Guerin says insincerely, brushing dirt off his palms. It’s on his knees too, making him look- Alex cuts that thought off before it can get any further, but not quickly enough that Guerin doesn’t see him looking. His expression is speculative, looking for a chance, an opening. Alex turns away.

“We should look for anything else useful.”

“You mean other than the clearly alien rocks that make you want to have sex for five hours straight?”

“Guerin-”

“Fine, fine.” He holds his hands up again, mock surrender, and takes a seat on the ammo box. Alex can hear noises he’d really rather not be hearing, so he takes a walk instead, checks the perimeter of the room, opens the rough cabinets. It’s more to distract himself than in the hopes of finding anything else; Guerin’s right, all the evidence they need is scattered across the floor.

Behind him Guerin makes a warning noise the same moment his boot hits a loose floorboard; he catches himself on the wall, hand scraping over the rough surface before he can stop it.

“Alex?”

“It’s fine. I’m fine.”

“Good.” There’s something wrong with Guerin’s tone that makes him look over, and he frowns at what he sees. Guerin has scooted to lean against the wall behind him, head tilted back, eyes closed. The muscles in his neck are taut with tension.

“What- did you?” He doesn’t need the brief nod to know he did. “When you overbalanced.”

“Yeah.”

“Then why aren’t you-” Alex gestures to the closed bedroom door, the muffled squeak of rusty springs. The noises he’s trying very hard not to acknowledge.

Michael tilts his head until he’s looking at Alex, pupils blown wide and curls damp with sweat. The muscles in his arms are corded, and Alex realises he’s gripping onto the box beneath him so tightly his knuckles are white. “I spent ten years not being able to touch you,” he says, voice gravelly and strained. “A few hours until this wears off is nothing.”

Alex has to look away, stunned by the brutal honesty in the words, then changes his mind.

He skirts the rocks carefully, coming over to stand at Guerin’s side. His jeans are doing nothing to hide the way his thighs have tensed, the outline of his hard on painfully clear. There’s sweat beading in the hollow of his throat, along his hairline; it’s costing him to keep himself sat still, Alex can see, the careless attitude taking a lot of effort.

Max and Liz had kept it together long enough to talk, but even then it was two minutes, maybe less. Guerin’s been sat there for - Alex checks his watch - ten and counting. The cold, logical part of him wonders if, providing his suspicions about Guerin are correct, it’s got something to do with his genetics. But then, Max had been badly affected, and if Guerin isn’t human, then neither is Max.

It’s a problem for later. Alex takes a seat on the other ammo box, keeping a careful distance from Guerin, and settles in to wait. They don’t talk. Alex can’t think of anything to say that wouldn’t make things worse, and Guerin seems happy to shut up for once; he’s leant back against the wall again, eyes fixed on the ceiling. Alex stares at the pulsing vein in his neck until Guerin tilts his head over enough to slant him a look, pupils blown wide and expression- Alex swallows hard and looks away.

They’ve been waiting for almost a full hour when Alex figures he’s not nothing to lose. He’s been trying to concentrate on work, on running through codes or something to stop him translating what’s going on in the small bedroom to things he and Guerin could be doing, and it hasn’t worked at all. In fact, he admits, it’s been a spectacular failure.

He pushes himself off the ammo box before he can change his mind, kneeling down by the nearest of the rocks. It’s cracked, a thin outer shell broken off to reveal the glittering crystals inside. Some kind if mineral, he guesses, reaching out.

A hand grabs his arm and pulls him away; he hadn’t heard Guerin stand up. “What are you doing?”

“I want to.”

Guerin laughs, but there’s no mirth in it. “No, you don’t.”

“I do. I want to now,” he says, overriding the rest of whatever Guerin was about to say. It gets him a scornful look. “I _do_ \- come on, that’s never been the problem. You know that.”

“I _know_ that you walked away,” and Alex holds his temper back with some effort, standing up slowly. If Guerin can keep it together, so can he.

He hasn’t figured out how to end that conversation yet, but this one- he can do this. Wants it, despite what Guerin thinks, although he’s not wrong to doubt. And he’s curious, has to admit; Liz and Max had looked open and happy, once they’d finished whatever negotiations they went through. He hasn’t had sex like that since-

“They’re on round two already,” he says, tilting his head towards the truck again, “or maybe three.” Guerin grimaces, and that’s fair; it’s his brother, after all. “You know how they’re feeling. Could I handle it, if you stopped-” _being in control_ , he doesn’t say, but Guerin shudders.

“I’m good, Alex. Just keep the hell away.”

“I don’t want to you end up like García,” Alex says, to avoid having to explain himself, and somehow isn’t surprised when Guerin makes a derisory noise.

“How noble of you.” Guerin shakes his head, hands white-knuckled again. “I’ll be fine. Nothing I haven’t felt before.”

It’s an exaggeration, has to be, but Alex’s mouth goes dry. He’s thinking of how to reply when the bedroom door swings open. Guerin’s eyes lock onto his, and they share a brief, silent moment of agreement that neither of them wants to look round. Then Guerin’s glance flicks to over his shoulder, and he sighs.

“Fully clothed,” he says, and Alex almost laughs, feels the corners of his mouth twitch. He turns, and immediately wishes he hadn’t.

Max and Liz look- it’s not a look Alex wants to see on either of them again. _Well fucked_ doesn’t begin to cover it.

“Couple times takes the edge off,” Max throws their way, as though that’s a normal thing to say. Guerin chokes on a laugh, looking horrified. Liz doesn’t seem to notice they’re there at all, both of them heading past and out the cabin door.

“Wait-”

“It’s barely a twenty minute drive,” Guerin says, moving quickly and putting out an arm to stop him following. Alex halts just before they touch. “Who’s gonna arrest him, Cameron?”

He’s right, Alex has to admit. And besides, it’s too late, the truck disappearing down the track in a cloud of dust.

“Coming?” Guerin tips his head towards his own truck, makes a deep and flourishing bow. “Promise I won’t crash.”

Alex snorts, already moving. “Yeah, that’s what I’m worried about.”

He’s half into the passenger seat by the time he hears Guerin following; when Alex twists round he’s carrying the ammo box, clearly no longer empty from the rattling noise it’s making.

“Shame to waste a trip,” he says, sliding it into the back, and Alex can’t help it; he smiles, hoping it’s hidden by the truck cab and the angle. Trust Guerin to remember why they were here in the first place.

The drive back feels like two hours, not twenty minutes, despite Guerin’s heavy foot on the gas. They don’t speak; Alex isn’t sure Guerin can, not and drive _and_ keep himself under control. His jaw is tight, and he’s breathing slow and deliberate, like someone in considerable pain; maybe he is, Alex thinks, letting himself flick a glance down to Guerin’s crotch.

Alex wonders how he’s doing it. On a normal day he thinks about Guerin a lot, definitely thinks about the sex too much for his own good, and he _knows_ Guerin is the same. Worse, probably, considering how little time it took for Guerin to kiss him. What it means is- is that Alex is pretty sure he’d have jumped Guerin the second he touched a rock, if he had, and not looked back.

Guerin is over an hour in, and still holding himself together. It’s incredible.

At the junkyard Guerin pulls the truck to a jerky halt, slamming it into park and letting his head drop down. He grips the wheel again, biceps revealing how hard he’s holding on. Alex lets himself look.

“You okay?”

“Just- give me a minute.”

“Sure.”

Alex slides himself out of the seat and heads to the back of the truck, feels his heartbeat kick up a notch. The ammo box isn’t locked, so he flips the latches open and looks at what Guerin collected. It’s maybe half full, some of the rocks plain and dull, others with cracks in them like the first, hammer marks showing where García split them open. One has broken completely in half, the glittering insides on show. Up front the truck door slams, and Alex moves, watching Guerin slowly walk across to the trailer.

“You shouldn’t be alone.”

“I’m gonna go lock myself in here, and survive the next few hours,” Guerin replies, one hand already on the door handle. His jacket is a crumpled heap by the steps, white tee almost translucent at the neck. “I’ll let you know I’m alive, how’s that?”

“I’m not leaving you on your own.”

“Don’t have much of a choice here.” Guerin’s arms glisten with sweat, now the jacket’s gone, and they’re trembling. “You know it can’t happen.”

“I shouldn’t have left, before,” he says, by way of a reply, and Guerins looks down and away.

“Alex-”

“I can make my own decisions,” he says, and reaches out before Guerin can realise and stop him, picking a rock from the open box and tossing it between his hands. Guerin tips his head back with a dramatic sigh, leans heavily against the trailer, and makes an _I give up_ gesture. Alex couldn’t care less, because the effects are instant.

A prickle starts in his palms, where his skin is touching the rock, and spreads up his arms, into his chest where his heart begins to pound. After a moment he gasps, gripping the side of the truck as his knees threaten to buckle; getting hard that fast is something he left behind ten years ago, along with Guerin’s clever hands and teenage hormones, and it’s overwhelming.

The few steps over to the trailer and Guerin take all his rapidly eroding concentration. How the _hell_ did Guerin drive like this, Alex wonders, staring at him; he can barely think past the urgent need to touch and kiss and fuck. Guerin looks like every wet dream he’s ever had, although Alex has enough clarity left to admit that’s not an result of the rocks.

“Alex-”

“I promise I’ll stick around for the morning after conversation this time,” he says, and closes the last gap between them, fascinated by the muscles in Guerin’s arms. He reaches out to touch, hears himself make a low noise in his throat at the feeling of hot skin under his hand.

“You’re going to regret this,” Guerin says thickly, and distantly Alex feels the urge to shout, but it’s overridden by the heat travelling up his spine. He shrugs, reaches up, and pulls Guerin in for a kiss.

“I regret a lot of things,” he says when he remembers he needs to breathe. “I’ve decided I’m going to stop pretending you’re one of them.”

“Was that before or after you picked up the sparkly alien rock?” Guerin asks, and Alex honestly has no idea how he’s managing to keep track of the conversation. He remembers with considerable effort.

“Before.” He frowns. “I’m not walking away, Guerin.”

“I warned you,” His lips twist in an unhappy smile and Alex touches his fingers to them, feels his heart rate kick up another gear when Guerin closes his eyes and leans into it. Enough is enough; Guerin might have decided to be noble and self-sacrificing for once, but Alex definitely isn’t going to.

“Inside. Now.”

^^^^

The last bit of truly rational thought Alex remembers, afterwards, is making sure the trailer door is locked once they’re inside. After that, he lets rationality go; Guerin’s hands are shaking when they reach out to him, and all he can think is _finally_.

It’s nothing like Alex imagined, sat in the cabin. He’s aware of what they’re doing, but it’s hazy, like part of his brain has been switched off. He doesn’t care that this always ends badly for them, or that there’s ten years of unspoken words waiting to trip them up; all he wants is to get his hands on hot, sweatslick skin, the muscles underneath trembling and straining when Guerin pulls him close and tips them both down onto the bed.

The first couple of orgasms flash by, clothes stripped off, Guerin’s hand and then mouth hot around his cock, keeping Alex down with firm hands at his hips. It doesn’t help, only makes him hotter and more desperate, straining for something he can’t quite reach.

Some part of him knows that Guerin’s been feeling like this for- he can’t remember, but too long, not when he deserves more. Guerin chokes above him and Alex realises he said that out loud, repeats it into Guerin’s skin until the words jumble into moans and he comes over Alex’s hand. He brings it up to lick it clean and Guerin’s expression goes wild, pupils blown out until there’s only a thin ring of brown; Alex skims a thm underneath one, dips it lower to press against Guerin’s lips, tongue flickering out to meet the touch.

He loses some time then, to the feeling, and the prickle in his blood is almost unbearable when Guerin turns him over and stretches out along his back, whispering filth into his ear while familiar fingers work him open. It brings him off again, and then again, too much too quickly, Guerin’s tongue replacing fingers, the silence that falls once his mouth is occupied filled by Alex’s incoherent and desperate cries.

He loses himself in the feeling, of Guerin sliding in and out, slow and steady, fucking into Alex for what feels like an eternity, until his arms give out and he’s a wreck, sheets scratchy against his overheated cheek, begging for more. Guerin talks to him, low and rough, all the things he’s ever wanted to do to Alex, half of them ticked off since they locked the door.

“I waited,” he says at one point, low and pained. Alex presses his face into the bed and comes again, vision going black at the edges. He doesn’t know when Guerin means, today or before, and can’t hold onto the thought; time has stopped meaning anything.

“Please,” he says, spreads his legs wide so Guerin can crawl up his body and settle between them, their cocks sliding together and sending the fizzing in his blood sky high. “I’m here, I’m- _please_.” It doesn’t make any sense, but it makes Guerin lean down to kiss him until they can’t breathe, the air in the trailer thick and close.

He scatters bitemarks over Guerin’s shoulders, a set of teeth marks for each time Guerin’s fingers curl inside him and push him to just short of the tipping point. In return, his orgasm still shivering down his spine, he pushed Guerin down onto the bed and edges him until he’s thrashing, curls a tangled mess Alex is desperate to slide his fingers into again. When he lets Guerin come it looks intense to the point of pain, every muscle tensing, his head thrown back a shout ripped from his throat; Alex leans down to grip his curls while he shakes, bends down for a kiss and grins when Guerin bites his lip with a curse.

By hour four they’re both exhausted, or rather their bodies are. Whatever’s sliding through his veins hasn’t given up just yet, but Alex’s muscles ache, his mouth is parched, and he doubts his legs would hold him if he tried to stand for another round against the trailer door.

Guerin’s high slips away first, and Alex is vaguely pissed when he remembers there’s been an hour wasted. He tries to explain that he’d wanted to crawl into Guerin’s lap in the cabin, and ride him hard, _without_ the rocks, but he can’t vocalise it; can’t string two words together, let alone a sentence. Guerin laughs, drops a careful kiss to one corner of his mouth and then the other, his own lips swollen and puffy.

“I’ve got you,” he says, and proceeds to kiss what felt like every inch of Alex’s body.

Down his neck and across his chest, his hips and thighs. The crooks of his elbows, his knee, even the scars around the remains of his leg; he’s been everywhere before, but this time he lingers, soft lips and by the time he’s done Alex’s own high was fading, one last orgasm wrenched out of him with a hoarse cry. He reached out with shaking hands, but falls asleep even as Guerin settles down beside him.

^^^^

When Alex wakes it’s with a groan, for muscles abused far past their usual endurance. He presses a hand to the side of his jaw and tests it; it aches like- like he just spent two hours sucking Guerin’s cock, which is reasonably accurate. Bruises and bitemarks are starting to ache and sting, especially when he breathes too deeply.

A shift in Guerin’s breathing pulls his attention outwards again, and he turns his head in time to see Guerin’s eyes blink open. Between one breath and another awareness returns, and the hand resting by Alex’s ribs flexes; he wants to touch, Alex guesses, isn’t sure if he can. He makes the decision for them both, shifting to his side and curling his fingers through Guerin’s.

“You okay?”

Alex takes stock. They’re sweaty and disgusting, but Guerin - Michael, really, he should start using his name if they’re going to try and make this work somehow - is looking at him with soft eyes. Too soft, considering- considering everything. It’s fully dark outside, and he feels like he needs a gallon of water, a shower, three pizzas and a lot of sleep, plus to avoid sitting down for the next week.

“Yeah,” he says, quiet and sure. Michael’s smile starts in his eyes before he lets it cross his lips, as if he’s waiting for inevitable disappointment. “I’m good.”

“I wasn’t sure you’d stay.”

Of course he wasn’t; he held himself together for over an hour, against a feeling that had Alex begging to be fucked within five minutes, all because he had no reason to think it could end well if he’d let go.

It’s remarkable, really. Guerin’s remarkable. Alex has thought that before, in painfully honest moments, but now he lets it show on his face, reaches out to drift a careful touch over the welter of bruises on Michael’s chest.

“Don’t think I can walk,” he says drily, and his toes curl in an echo of pleasure at the honest and happy amusement on Michael’s face. “Don’t,” he warns, when it slides into something smug; “not a word, Guerin.”

^^^^

This time he’s careful not to touch any rocks, closing and fastening the ammo box with a padlock Michael finds somewhere. They drive it over to Max together the following day, after a lot more sleep and more food than Alex had thought himself capable of eating; Guerin ate more, and then some.

There’s no one else there when they head inside, which makes Alex wonder if Max got rid of Cameron to avoid having to explain his own state.

“Get a little rough?” Alex asks when they’ve handed over the rock, with a pointed look. Beside him Michael’s grin is wide and- happy, Alex realises, happy for Max.

“What?” Max lifts a hand to his neck, startled. “No, that was- after.”

His own neck is hidden beneath a shirt and his jacket, but Michael’s neck is bare above his white tee; some of the bruises are visible through the fabric, Alex realises, too late. Max either doesn’t notice or ignores them, his attention on the ammo box.

He unlocks it and takes a look, keeping his hands well away from the rocks this time. “Any idea what we do with this lot?”

Alex glances inside; there’s less rocks than he thought there were the night before, but maybe he’s wrong; a lot’s happened since then.

“No,” Alex says, just as Michael says, “got a few ideas-”  


“You don’t know what I was going to suggest,” Michael protests, but the shit-eating grin on his face and Max’s groan say it all.

“Nothing worth wasting breath on.”

They leave him to it; Alex has work, real work, to be doing, but he’d almost rather go back to war than have to sit in front of a computer screens right now. He’s got a conversation to finish with Michael, although when he pulls himself into the truck, it’s obvious that _talking_ is the last thing in his mind.

“I was thinking-”

“If you’ve got any ideas left-”

“Give me a week, I’ll show you. _Without_ the alien sex rocks,” Michael says with a smirk.

“Not sure I can wait a week,” Alex says slyly, and sees the smirk turn into something that’s all teeth.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I gave myself 5k to get these assholes out of my system, and this clocks in at just under. The, er, other one I started while halfway through is at 2k and counting. - _muffled screaming_ \- I want my goddamn life back. 
> 
> Set after 1x02 sometime.


End file.
